


Le Matin

by spare_parts_in_space



Category: La Cage aux Folles - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Gen, Hot Chocolate, M/M, Reminiscing, cold morning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:04:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27300118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spare_parts_in_space/pseuds/spare_parts_in_space
Summary: “Good morning, mon chéri.”“Mmmm, more like rude awakening.”
Relationships: Albin/Georges (La Cage aux Folles)





	Le Matin

Rain rapped against the windows. Fog clouded the view outside. An intrusive breeze creeped its way in through tiny cracks. This kind of weather was rare for the area. Neither of the men curled up in their cozy king bed cared for it. At first, a bit of rolling about was in order – the ignoring phase. So disturbed were they, that it moved on to the complaining: a bitter and defeated acknowledgment. This is the Mediterranean after all! Why live in Saint-Tropez of all places if not for the simple promise of mild climate?

They held each other close. Some warmth. Some comfort. Until the cold tickles receding hairlines, biting at their scalps and aching their bones. Enough is enough, after all. A look passes between the pair, a giddiness blossoming from their shared ridiculous hatred. How comfortable they'd become accustomed to being. How silly all of this was. With a grin on both their cheeky faces, they kiss. 

“Good morning, mon chéri.”

“Mmmm, more like rude awakening,” Albin chuckles against Georges lips. Pale, slightly cracked and dry. Lines hugging them, showing off his age and years of smoking. Albin's much the same. After all this time, he couldn't believe it, and he was still with the sexiest and most successful man of the Riviera – of all of France! Albin goes in for another smooch with this thought, reaping great reward as he's reciprocated with an excitable vigor. 

Again, the air snaps at them. How rude. Without breaking spirit, they kiss once more before gathering around the fireplace; pillows, blankets and bowls of hot chocolate joining them. Georges starts the fire as Albin settles himself – no easy feat. The blankets must be over his cold toes, the pillows just so under his aging spine. The chocolate far enough to give him space, but not so much he cannot easily reach without agitating the whole elaborate setup.

With a red, crackling blaze, the hearth shimmers brilliantly. An inviting warmth makes its way over. Lapping, teasing. Soon it will settle with them. Georges moves to sit down, taking one cautionary hand towards the blankets. All the while searching his partner's face for approval. A tilt of his head along with a smile and quirked brow are all he needs to join. Albin pats his hand underneath the blanket and Georges grabs it, placing it on his lap as he scoots alongside. 

Hand-in-hand, warming up by the flame, recollections pour out. Do you remember the time when...? Jean-Michel, Jacob, Jacqueline...? They laugh, recounting many stories through the years. What tales these two have. Parenting queens along with an actual child. Running and staring in their own nightclub. Being fantastic and fabulous. It takes a lot out of you. But it's not so bad...

...Not when you have the love of your life at your side.

Georges snorts. What a romantic he is, even at this age. And what's so funny, Albin would like to know? If it has anything to do with his new costume, someone's going to get a pummeling – that's for damn sure. He leans forward, brow raised in question and lips furled in mock disapproval.

“Nothing dear.” Georges finger pads run along Albin's cheek. Soft and only slightly wrinkled. Words so tender they barely register. 

“You old fool.” Neither can help but smile against the other's lips. Blanket snug under their bodies. Chocolate filling their bellies. Fire singing. All is right in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I imagined my personal favorite Georges & Albin while writing this, but with any skill I've been able to invoke yours as well.


End file.
